Rose stood in front of
the mirror in nothing but a damp towel, looking at herself from
several angles. She didn't look very pregnant. Her breasts were
the same size, there was no glow (that she could discern—everyone
else she encountered said she looked absolutely radiant), and her
stomach was still entirely flat. Well, not entirely flat. She was
hardly "washboard" prior to getting thoroughly (and
intoxicatingly) knocked up.

Every time she thought
of the term, it caused a grin to break out on her face. All the
little euphemisms made her smile like an idiot. 'In a family way'
was one of her favorites.

Shouldn't she be
changing by now? It had been four months. Pulling her hair off of
her neck, she tried to determine if she was putting on any weight in
her face. Something about her seemed rounder, or maybe she just
hoped she was a bit different.

The one that actually
caused her to make an undignified sound somewhere between gushing and
drooling had been from her mother's own lips.

She'd been sitting in
her mother's kitchen, staring into the back of her spoon and
wondering if the shine she saw on her cheeks was excessive oil
production or motherhood's glow, when the Doctor MAY have asked
offhandedly how Jackie 'wanted to do this.' He kept denying it.
But she'd heard the next part clear as day, and he wasn't backing
out of that bit. Did Jackie want a shotgun wedding to preserve her
daughter's honor, or if it'd ruin Rose's chavvy street cred to
get married. Or they could be all 'modern' and just live
together. But they were already living together. This would be a
SPECIAL living together. Maybe in a house, with carpets! Jackie'd
have to visit, of course. But she couldn't stay, because he didn't
want any Time Tots of his to start talking in a high-pitched chirp
the way she did, it was bad enough he had to live with Rose's
neglected consonants and abused vowels.

Before Rose could even
clench her eyes shut, or yell for him to shut his big damned
higher-species mouth, Jackie had drawn in a sucking breath and let it
back out again in a bellowing tirade.

"Rose Marian Tyler, I
cannot believe that you allowed him to… to… JIGGERYPOKERY you!
And without protection! Now you're incubating his nattery little
alien-spawn from the planet Mars! I can't believe you! Now my
grandbaby's going to have two hearts and six arms and four eyes
and…and tentacles! Oh my god, my grandbaby's a tentacle monster!
I've seen those Japan-cartoons!"

Coming into the lounge,
Rose had pointed her spoon at the Doctor, who was inching toward the
door to the flat. "YOU are not allowed to talk to human beings
ever again." She turned to her mother. "Mum, just calm down.
This baby's going to be perfectly normal. Ok, it's going to have
two hearts. But it's going to have ten little fingers and ten
little toes, and you're going to love it. If I have to kill you
into loving it."

The Doctor grinned
wildly, his hand on the door knob. "Granted they'll be spread
out over three arms and six legs. But you'll never even notice all
those extra eyes!" Yanking the door open, he retreated through,
like a man trying to evade death.

And Rose had just stood
there, grinning at her mother stupidly, still wondering if she was
oily or had magic mummy glow. "Yes, I'm incubating his nattery
little alien-spawn." She grinned and giggled.

Somehow, this caused
Jackie-tough-as-nails Tyler to cry.

Rose just sighed and
rubbed her mother's shoulders. "It's going to be alright!"

Wiping a hand under
her eyes, Jackie left streaks of mascara . "Just what am I
supposed to tell your grandmother?"

Suggesting the truth
had upset Jackie further. "You'll think up a convincing lie"
hadn't really done all that good at calming Jackie either.
Eventually Rose had to just let it ride and let her mother cry it
out. Now Jackie just referred to the Doctor as the 'nattery bloody
alien oaf who made me an alien grandmother.'

Rose hoped that meant
they were bonding.

Of course, when the
Doctor peaked his head into Rose's old bedroom and she saw the red
and purple knot on his forehead, she didn't have much hope for the
whole 'one big happy family' thing. He was a bit out of breath,
but she didn't know if it was because she was declothed, or if
Jackie was making him run for his life (again). "Dinner?" he
clucked in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. "Save me? She's
talking about cradles, cribs, cots and other frightening child-beds
that begin with the letter C."

Rubbing her smooth-ish
tummy, she looked at herself in the mirror. "Wait till I start
showing. That'll make her happy and she'll calm down because
it'll be real to her and she'll have something to look forward
to."

Closing the bedroom
door, he sat exhaustedly on the magenta-clad bed. "May not survive
that long. She just wrung up someone on the phone, and thrust it at
me, and when I wouldn't take it, she tried clubbing me to death
with it," he rubbed the bump on his forehead. "Then she made me
tell your grandmother, who asked when the wedding was…"

Laughing at him, but
trying to make it seem like she wasn't laughing at him, she ran her
hands along her sides, wondering if there was more of those than
there were before. There should have been. Shouldn't there? "Oh,
I've been meaning to ask. How does this work? Like a human
pregnancy? Nine months?"

"Not exactly."

Turning around, Rose
inspected her bottom in the mirror, swishing it from side to side.
"Longer? Shorter? In-between-er?"

Trying to swallow, the
Doctor licked his lips. "Try twenty-five," he stuttered in a
soft, bairly audible voice.

Rose spun around in
shock. "Twenty-five months?"

Smiling cautiously, the
Doctor slid to the corner of the bed furthest from Rose.
"Uh…twenty-five, um…years."

"WHAT?"

He suddenly looked
defensive, as if she'd just insulted his mother or something.
"Rose, think about it! One body'll last two hundred and fifty
years. That's light years ahead of humans in this time period. So
of COURSE our gestation period is…comparatively longer." Sighing,
the Doctor threw himself back on the bed, then stared at the pattern
on the ceiling. "Why do you think we perfected the artificial
womb?"

Grabbing hold of the
chair in the corner of her room, Rose tried to steady herself. "OK.
This is going to be a little bit… tough to deal with. For the
next QUARTER CENTURY!?"

The Doctor flung an arm
over his eyes. "See, I knew you'd be just like this. It's why
I have a plan."

"Oh it MUST be the
end of the world! YOU Have a plan! Alright, fearless leader, what're
we going to do about this? About ME? For the next quarter of my life?

Despite continuing to
hide his eyes (probably because of the headache that was no doubt
forming behind those depthless brown eyes), the Doctor grinned.
"I've thought of this. How's about a surrogate? In a few
weeks, the baby will be old enough to transfer to another womb. And
then right back to the way we were! Running about and saving things."

Rose pinched the bridge
of her nose. Just WHO are you going to get to be pregnant for
twenty-five years?

"Someone
indestructible for starters. Gallifreyans are, size-wise, the
equivalent of a primary schooler when they're born.

Looking up at the
ceiling, Rose wondered just where you'd find someone like that.
"Jack?"

The Doctor shook his
head. "No. He said he wasn't doing that ever again."

"Well, that's all
the indistructable people I can think of!"

Sitting up, the Doctor
somhow managed to repress a grin. "We have an appoiontment with
the Face of Boe in the year 199,975. He's willing to do it with
very few strings attached, no questions asked."

Still stark naked, Rose
put her hands on her hips. "And just what's the catch?"

The Doctor shrugged.
"Very minor. Visitation and naming rights."

Rose held out a hand to
the Doctor. "Done."

"Are you sure?"

Face twisting
incredulously, Rose cocked her head at him. "The impending joys of
motherhood are one thing. But twenty-five years is a bit…ok, it's
a lot. And lets just put it this way. Boe can have visitation
rights. It'll be like having a free babysitter." She shook her
head. "Twenty-five years?"

Giving her his best
toothy grin, the Doctor shrugged. "I must have mentioned it. At
some point. Or another."